


Shadows Creep

by flowersheep



Series: Eye of the Phoenix AU [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, noble merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: Merlin joins a patrol investigating something strange deep beneath the mountains surrounding the Vale of Dragons.





	Shadows Creep

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel scene to my fic [ From Past to Present](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231900). It takes place about five years before that fic.

The air was colder down here than what was natural, even this deep beneath the mountains. Merlin's breath came in puffs of frosty mist that lingered and his fingers felt like ice. But it wasn't the cold that sent a shiver down his spine as he stepped out of the mountain passage. He shouldn't be this far from the campsite, he knew, not on his own. There was a reason they normally took the long way and only used this path in emergencies. But, unlike normal, they weren't headed to the plains today. Jocelyn had sent them specifically to investigate this particular path through the mountains. A patrol had passed through here not more than a few days ago and reported nothing out of the ordinary, but if Jocelyn said something was wrong nobody dared doubt her.

"Merlin!"

His father's voice startled him so badly he nearly dropped his torch. Merlin turned and felt his father grip his arm tight.

"You know you shouldn't be here," Balinor said. "I told you not to leave the campsite."

Merlin looked at the far end of the cavern, then back at his father. "The doors are open," he said. He'd felt it that morning. An echoing clang of metal on stone that had woken him out of a sound sleep, rattling through his mind and leaving behind a deep sense of unease. Rolling over and ignoring it hadn't worked. Whatever it was, it had drawn Merlin from his bedroll and down the passageway. His father looked to the doors leading down to the unknown depths of the catacombs and froze.

"Philip," Balinor called, the man in question just coming out of the passageway. "Philip, why are the doors open?"

"What?" Confused, Philip looked for himself, sucking in a sharp breath. When no answer was forthcoming, Balinor growled the man's name. Startled, Philip exclaimed, "I don't know! They were closed when I came through here a few days ago, I swear!"

"And you didn't notice anything strange?" Balinor pressed.

"No, nothing."

The frantic conversation faded to the back of Merlin's awareness as a sense of foreboding swept over him. He stared intently into the mouth of the catacombs, trying to see through the dark. His questioning tendrils of magic shied away. Merlin gasped, grasping his father's arm and drawing the attention of the two men. "There's something there!"

Immediately, his father pushed him back and drew his sword. Philip moved to stand beside him, also drawing his weapon. They stood firm between Merlin and the darkness, tensed and ready for a fight. After a moment Merlin remembered the bow slung across his back. Hands shaking, he dropped his torch and nocked an arrow, prepared to draw and fire. The air got colder. Merlin half expected his breath to freeze solid right in front of his eyes. He didn't realize he'd started to move backwards, away from the darkness, until his back hit the cave wall. That was when the cave began to shake. Faint, at first, showering them in a fine layer of rock dust, then more and more as something moved closer. Merlin didn't understand why his father and Philip weren't shrinking away in fear as well. Didn't they sense it?

His answer came a moment later when his father said, "We need to get out of here. Now. Merlin, go." Merlin didn't need telling twice. He stowed his bow and bolted up the passageway, back towards the campsite, Philip and his father close on his heels. As they rounded a bend in the passage, taking the doors of the catacombs out of sight, an earth shattering roar echoed through the mountain. Merlin stumbled and fell, clamping his hands over his ears even though the roar wasn't so much physical as it was mental, tearing through his defenses like they were paper. His magic railed against the intrusion and something cold and dark lodged itself in the very center of his being. Fear, he thought distantly, trying to stand and crashing back to the ground. That cold icy feeling was fear. Hands grabbed him, pulling him to his feet, dragging him along. Disorientated, it took him a while to realize that Philip was on one side and his father was on the other, carrying him between them. Halfway to the campsite they met the rest of the party.

"Run!" Balinor ordered. It sounded muffled and distant, like someone had stuffed Merlin's ears with cotton. He was starting to feel nauseous. His head wouldn't stop spinning, his heart wouldn't stop pounding, his feet slipped and tripped on nothing. Merlin wanted desperately to stop, just for a moment, just to catch his breath, but there was no time.

"It's coming," he mumbled.

-

The seal on the door wouldn't hold for long. Even with the combined magic of the entire patrol reinforcing it there was no way the seal would hold up against the beast now stalking the mountain corridors. Well, Balinor thought, glancing at his son, almost the entire patrol. Merlin hadn't been- and still wasn't- coherent enough to help form the seal. He sat against the wall, hunched in on himself, pale and shaky. When they'd first got through the doors leading back to the citadel, Merlin had dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks and dry heaved several times. Philip had had to drag him away from his son, reminding him that Merlin's current condition would be the least of their problems if the beast made it into the citadel. Now Balinor watched his son with unease. He'd felt the sickening darkness as well, heard the beast's soul shattering roar, felt his magic protest at the very existence of something so dark and twisted, but Merlin's reaction went beyond that, far beyond. He seemed physically ill, as if he'd caught some kind of infection. His expression was haunted. Balinor supposed it shouldn't surprise him that Merlin was affected so strongly by the beast. He'd always been different. Special, Hunith would say fondly. In that moment, Balinor would've given anything for his son not to be special.

"The wards are done," Philip said nervously as he approached. "But there's no telling how long they'll hold. The seal underneath them is strong, but against that thing..." Philip shuddered. "Gods, I can't believe that's been living beneath the mountain all this time." When Balinor said nothing, Philip followed his gaze. He clapped a hand on Balinor's shoulder. "Go take care of him. We can handle this."

Balinor took in a deep breath, indecisive. "I should be here," he said.

"We can handle this," Philip repeated firmly. "Right now your son needs you more than we do. Go." Philip gave him a little push towards Merlin. Balinor nodded resolutely.

"Alright. You're right." He looked back at the sealed passageway. "I want that door guarded at all times. Check the wards and the seal regularly, more often than you normally would. And the minute something happens-"

"I'll send someone to inform you," Philip finished. "As I said, we can handle this. Go take care of your son." He gave Balinor's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading back over to the rest of the patrol, barking out orders. Balinor left him to it, going over and sweeping Merlin up in his arms. His son didn't even seem to notice. Halfway to Merlin's room, Balinor made a decision and grabbed the first person he came across, one of the knights, and sent her running for Jocelyn. Merlin was fine, he told himself. The encounter with the beast had just shaken him up. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have Jocelyn look him over, just to be sure.

-

The first thing Merlin noticed when he woke up was that he was in his room.

"How are you feeling, little one?"

Turning his head, Merlin saw Jocelyn's old, wizened face smiling kindly at him from a chair at his bedside. He wanted to protest being called little one. He hadn't been little since hitting his last growth spurt. But there was something soothing about the way Jocelyn said it.

"Tired," Merlin answered. He didn't think he could move from his bed right now even if he wanted to.

"That's hardly a surprise," Jocelyn said. "I'm told you went through quite the ordeal yesterday."

Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Yesterday?" It couldn't have been that long since... since that thing had escaped. Had he really been asleep that long?

"You were quite incoherent when I got here," Jocelyn explained. "When you started getting hysterical I gave you a sleeping draught."

"Hysterical?" Merlin felt his face heat up with embarrassment. He didn’t remember getting hysterical. In fact, he didn’t remember much of anything after the horrific, soul shattering roar. He could vaguely recall being half carried through the door and slumping against the wall. And he thought he remembered his father picking him up some time after that. Mostly he just remembered the dark, empty feeling that had spread through him slowly, like water through cracks in stone. Hollow, yet filled with rage, with hunger. Intent on devouring every last living thing until the world was nothing more than a barren wasteland of fear and-

“Little one.” Jocelyn’s voice broke through the panicked fog starting to cloud Merlin’s mind, pulling him back to the here and now, where he was safe in his room. “Nothing can hurt you here, little one.”

“Sorry,” Merlin mumbled, looking down as a feeling of shame rose within him. He may be young, but he was a warrior, a dragonlord. He shouldn’t succumb to fear so easily.

“You have nothing to feel ashamed of,” Jocelyn told him, voice gentle, comforting. "You are different from the others. Your magic gives you insight into the world that others can only dream of. Unfortunately, not all of that insight is good." Merlin nodded. Part of him knew Jocelyn was right, that his magic had always set him apart in many ways from other sorcerers. Mostly he just hated the fact that he’d been so useless. Merlin should’ve been prepared to help fight off the beast and protect his people. Instead he’d been so incoherent he could barely even remember what had happened.

“Is my father here?” he asked. As soon as the words left his mouth he heard the door of his room open.

“It would seem he has just returned,” Jocelyn said. She grasped Merlin’s hand. “You are not weak, little one. In fact, you are far stronger than any of us realize.” Squeezing his hand, she stood. “I have a few things requiring my attention, but if you need me don’t hesitate to send for me, alright?”

For the first time since waking up, Merlin almost smiled. “Alright.”

Jocelyn left. Through the brief gap in the curtains drawn across his room to shield his bed, Merlin caught sight of his father and Jocelyn pausing as they passed each other before the thick fabric fell back into place. He listened to their hushed conversation, but couldn’t make out any of the words. Then Jocelyn’s soft, careful footsteps headed towards the door and the curtains parted once again to reveal his father, looking tired but relieved. He came and sat on the edge of Merlin’s bed. Merlin meant to say something, to apologize for leaving the campsite alone or for being so useless when they were fleeing the beast. But the words refused to come. Instead his throat clogged with tears and rather than a young warrior of the dragonlords he felt like a small child. He reached out and without hesitation his father drew him into his arms.

“It’s alright,” his father murmured against his hair. “You’re safe now, Merlin. We all are.” But Merlin knew that was a lie.

As long as that beast prowled the depths of the mountains, none of them were safe.


End file.
